Diving into the life of Harry Potter!
by T.V programs rule
Summary: After yet another fight with Draco Malfoy, Harry drops his personal journal. Draco, being the prat he is, picks it up and decided to read. Believing that he would be reading all of Harry's spoilt, uninteresting secrets; Draco is in for a surprise when he dives into the life of Harry James Potter. 8th Year; After the War ends. No slash. Give it a try xx
1. Chapter 1

**Diving into the life of Harry Potter!**

**~. ~ Summary – **_After yet another fight with Draco Malfoy, Harry drops his personal journal. Draco, being the prat he is, picks it up and decided to read. Believing that he would be reading all of Harry's spoilt, uninteresting secrets; Draco is in for a surprise when he dives into the life of Harry James Potter. 8__th__ Year; after the War ends. Not Slash _**– End summary ~. ~**

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**Chapter 1**

"_What_ is going on here?" The sharp voice of Headmistress McGonagall rang out through the halls. The gathered crowd scattered away and went back to their daily routines, still gossiping about the display that the Saviour and the Ice-Prince had made.

When a clear space was made, McGonagall stood tall and menacing; glaring down at the two students sprawled out on the floor.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. Would you two care to explain just _why_ you are sprawled _disgracefully_ on the floor like a couple of insects?" Her tone was cut sharp along with her glare as she stared down her nose at them.

Harry bent his head and stared at floor, suddenly feeling just as small as an insect. He should have known better than to let Malfoy get the better of him. Should have ignored the taunts and the baiting; but, like always, Malfoy just had that certain way of getting under Harry's skin. Harry couldn't take another jab at his parents before he tackled Malfoy to the ground.

Both their school-bags went flying as they rolled on the floor, punching and banging each other's heads on the cement below them. Their school clothes had been the next thing to tear and rip as they became more dirty and bloody, ignoring the shouts from their friends, either egging them on or asking them to stop.

Speaking of friends, Harry quickly glanced up as he heard Hermione's voice, quickly followed by Parkinson's, defending their actions to the Headmistress.

"Professor, it wasn't Harry's fault…"

"He started it, Professor…"

"Malfoy wouldn't leave him alone…"

"Potter tackled Draco to the ground…"

"Malfoy provoked him…!"

"Potter went crazy…!"

"Enough!" The loud echo of McGonagall's voice had instantly stopped the bickering of the two girls, who had directed their comments to each other more than the Headmistress.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, looking ashamed that she had gotten into an argument infront of a Professor. Hermione may have changed after the war, but she still hated disappointing their Head of House.

Parkinson, along with Malfoy, was opening glaring at the Gryffindors. Their fists clenched at their sides and their mouths were a thin line as they held themselves back from pouncing on the pair of them.

"That is quite enough out of you two." McGonagall said firmly to the two girls. To the two boys still sitting on the floor, she snapped out, "You two! My office! Now!" Before turning around and marching away, not bothering to see if they followed.

Hermione collected Harry's fallen books and placed them back inside the boy's bag while Ron helped his friend up, patting the back of Harry's shoulder to help get some of the dirt off.

"Thanks, Ron." Harry muttered while smiling gratefully as Hermione passed him his bag. Harry looked around to find that Malfoy and his goons were already storming ahead of them, towards the Headmistress's office, Parkinson looking back and glaring at them once before hurrying to catch up to Malfoy.

"You okay, Mate?" Ron asked, not taking his eyes away from Malfoys back.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry whispered angrily.

"Harry, you shouldn't have tackled him." Hermione lectured. "You should know by now to rise above him…"

"Mione." Ron interrupted, glancing at Harry, whose mouth had gotten tighter as his anger grew. "He's already gonna get it from McGonagall; he doesn't need it from you to."

Hermione, just noticing her friend's face, instantly stammered out an apology before Harry shook his head and began to walk past them, calling over his shoulder as he went, "I'll catch up with you later, alright?"

Harry stormed away as Hermione and Ron glanced at each other worryingly. Harry had also changed after the War. He had become more snappish, more angry and had often neglected his personal needs to sit in his Dorm-room. No one knew what he did when he was alone and by his short, angry one-worded answer when they asked, they didn't wanna know.

Ron and Hermione walked slowly towards the Great-Hall, their heads down and their thoughts filled with their friend.

No one saw the lone black book with _Harry James Potter_ written on the cover lying on the floor next to the wall.

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Short, i know :( But still good right? Please review, knowing what you think of it gives me the courage and confidance to write more! Love ya's :D xxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

**Littleforest = **_Thanks for the review hun, means a lot xx and yeah, its gonna be quite angsty lol i figured that not even Harry Potter is strong enough to cope with what that guy has gone through. And about the Ginny question...i'm not to sure on that right now hun but i'm gonna be thinking about it lol Thanks again for reviewing hun, enjoy this chapter xxx_

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**Chapter 2!**

Harry reached the Gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office to see that McGonagall and Malfoy were standing there waiting for him. Instead of speeding up at the twin glares directed at him, he slowed down.

He didn't slow down because he was being difficult or because he wanted to get on their nervous; though that did sound appealing to him. A few years ago, Harry would have rushed down the hall so he didn't have to make them wait. But a lot of things had changed; including his ability to care about making people wait. _He_ had waited 8 years to be bloody free; _they_ can wait 5 bloody mintues for him to walk!But, no, he had slowed down because he couldn't stand being in that damn office anymore. Couldn't stand the fact that it was now _McGonagall's _office when it shouldn't be.

That office was Dumledore's office, and as far as Harry was concerned, it still belonged to the man.

"Take your time, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, his lip curling up and his eyes shooting daggers.

Before McGonagall had a chance to scold him, Harry retaliated, doing the thing that would rival Malfoy up more.

He slowed down that little bit more, putting a foot an inch infront of the other. He offered up a bright smile at Malfoy and tilted his head once in his direction. "Thank you, Malfoy, i will." He said politely, ignoring the fact that Malfoy's glare had grown hard.

Malfoy growled low in his throat as he took a step forward, intending to go over to Potter and smash the gits head against the wall, but was stopped by McGonagall's hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will stay put!" She pushed him back a step before snapping at Harry. "Potter! Hurry up and stop baiting Mr. Malfoy."

Once all three of them were gathered around the statue, McGonagall led them up the moving stairs in silence and into her office. She indicated for the two of them to sit while she took a seat behind her desk.

There was a moment of silence as McGonagall stared at her students, analyzing them and trying to figure them out.

Malfoy had turned his head and directed his glare at the wall, choosing to ignore the both of them. His hands went red as the grip he had on the chair-arms went tighter.

Harry's gaze stayed on his feet, his fingers entwining with each other on his lap. He had to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. He didn't wanna be here; he _couldn't _be here. He couldn't look up at McGonagall and see her behind a desk that wasn't her's, sitting in a chair that she didn't belong in. He couldn't look around the room either. Not much had changed in the office since McGonagall had taken over; infact it looked pretty much the same, with an odd difference here and there.

Harry had to get himself together. He knew he had changed after...Well, just after. He didn't mean to; he had tried to act the same as he always did, but he couldn't. If he would give into his emotions, if he would cry about the War...Well, he just didnt think he'd be able to stop once he did.

He couldn't lost control like that. People still looked-up to him; still came to him to fix their problems. Well, maybe not so much now after he had snapped at them all. That was when it started. He found that if he became angry than he wouldn't cry.

McGonagall stared at them for another second before sitting forward and resting her arms on the desk, linking her fingers together infront of her.

"Do either of you care to explain what happened?" She was ignored by both of them as they continued to look away from her and each other. She sighed angrily and decided to try a different approach. "Okay then. I'll explain for you. What i think happened is that you both acted like a couple of immature First Years. Even when you _were_ First Years, you didnt react this badly to one another." She carried on, her tone becoming more firm and serious. "But you are no longer children. You are 18 years of age; act like it!" She sighed and softened her voice a little. "I understand that you both have been through a lot."

The change was instant as both boys tensed up. Draco continued to look away and snarl at the wall as rage built inside him. She had no idea what he had been through. Losing his home to Voldemort? She could never guess what that was like! Losing his Father to Azkaban and his Mother to house arrest? Like she could ever understand! He was told that his Father had not wanted to see him and Draco guessed it was probably because Lucisis, being the proud Pure-Blood that he is, wouldn't stand for his son to see him like that. Still didn't stop it from hurting though. And he was told by the Ministry that he wasn't allowed to see his Mother until her house-arrest was over.

Oh, they still lived in the same house, but in different parts of it. Parts that neither of them were allowed access to. Losing both his parent's like that had left Draco feeling alone.

McGonagall couldn't possibly understand.

Harry, who had make the mistake of glancing up and seeing a quick image of Dumbledore's smiling face before quickly looking away, was thinking the same thing. Been through a lot? The woman had no idea! There wasn't a time in his life that Harry could sit there and think 'I wish i was that age again because it was so much easier.' Because no matter the age that Harry had been, it had never been easy. As soon as something good would happen, something bad would come along and take over, erasing the good memories and leaving him feeling hopeless all over again.

He had lost so much and so many and he wasn't even in his twenty's yet!

McGonagall couldn't possibly understand.

McGonagall ignored their reactions and continued on. "But that is no excuse for you to pounce on each other the second that a Professor's back is turned. You two need to put this childish War behind you and grow up! Incase you have forgotten; we have not long finished a War, we _do not_ need to stop another one with you two!"

Harry's gaze had turned stone-cold as he glared at the floor. Rage and hurt were rising in him and he barely stopped himself from shouting and raving and cursing at her. She had absolutely no right! Whatsoever! She had no damn right to ask him such a question!

His hands curled into tight fists and he struggled to control himself. His eyes were starting to sting but he stubbornly blinked them back. _How _could she ask him such a question?

"Now, i have had quite enough." McGonagall went on, staring down at them sternly, not taking note that Harry's breathing was quicker than a few minutes ago. "Since none of the Professor's have so far managed to stop this _bickering _between you two, i have decided that today was the last straw."

Malfoy looked at McGonagall through the corner of his eyes. She couldn't mean...She wasn't gonna kick him out of school, was she? The school was the only thing keeping him out of Azkaban at the moment! That was the deal he had struck with the Ministry; insetad of going to prison, he had to finish his year at Hogwarts; it was part of his probation terms.

McGonagall stayed silent for a second, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. "The Professor's have stated that they will no longer interfere with your continuing contest to humiliate each other. Congratulations. You two have been the only students that the Professors have willingly chosen to give up on. So, we are leaving it down to you. You two will stop this pathetic rivalry between you and if you don't..." She paused for effect. "You will both be expelled."

Malfoy looked at the ground, his jaw tightening. He couldn't afford to be expelled, but there was no way he was suddenly gonna be best bloody pals with _Potter_!

"Is this understood?"

The boys gave a single sharp nod of their heads, both still looking at the ground and both still tense. They stayed in silence for a moment before McGonagall allowed them to leave. They both shot out of their seats as if they were on fire and shot for the door. Malfoy stormed out first and just as Harry was about to follow, McGonagall stopped him.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry paused in the doorway and squeezed his eyes closed tightly. Couldn't the woman just leave him alone and _let him out of this Godforsaken office!?_

Malfoy stomped down the corridors, in a foul mood. He had two options. One) He could get expelled from Hogwarts and spend the rest of the year sharing a cell next to his Father, which would destroy all three Malfoys; destory his Father because Draco would have to see him in prison and that was something Lucisis couldn't stand the thought of - Destroy Draco because he would be in _Azkaban_ with the _Dementors! _- And destroy his Mother because then she would have no one left.

Or his second option) Be on friendly terms with _Potter_!

Both were just as bad.

He had considered for a second of just ignoring Potter completely. Not being polite or friendly to him, but not baiting him or taunting him either. Just completely ignoring him. That idea disappeared as soon as he thought it. He wouldn't be able to hold his tongue.

Still scowling and thinking about his choices, Malfoy continued to march down the corridors. Instead of heading for the Great Hall, where no doubt his friends were waiting to hear what happened, he moved passed and coninuted down to the Dungeons. His lips curled up in disgust as he walked down the corridor where he and Potter had fought, remembering the state of himself lying on the floor.

He suddenly stopped as something caught the corner of his eye. He walked closer to the wall and bent down to pick it up. A book. Must have fallen out one of their bags. He was about to quickly check his bag to make sure it wasn't one of his before noticing the writing on the cover.

_Harry James Potter._

Scoffing in disgust, Draco instantly let go as if the book was infested with something horrible that he could catch. Well, considering that it was Potter's, who knew, right?

He got to the end of the hall before he paused once again. That didn't look like any of their school books - for one; it was just a black leather cover with golden words written on the front. So, if this wasn't a school book, that means it was Potter's personal book.

Oh, my God...Did Harry Potter have a _diary?_

Without thinking twice, Draco ran back and picked up the book, flipping the cover over and looking at the first page.

In the middle of the page it had the normal '_This book belongs to..._'

Harry had written his name in a blue-coloured pen; finely written if Draco had to admit. Potter must have practised writing his name a thousand times or something stupid like that. But around the printed and written words where Potter's...graffiti. Different colours, different sizes, different rotations, and different designs. But all saying the same thing: KEEP OUT!

Oh, my God...He had found Harry Potter's _diary!_

Draco grinned wickedly as he stuffed the book in his bag. Hey, it wasn't his fault that Potter was too dense to put a simple _Protego _Charm on the damn thing to stop people looking through it. Potter's own fault; Draco cannot be blamed for taking advantage of the brain-less ponce.

An evil smirk in place, Draco conintued his journey to the Slytherin Dorms.

Harry slowly turned back around, taking deep breaths and counting to ten. He still avoided looking around the room or at McGonagall, continuing to stare at the floor instead.

"Yes, Professor?" He asked politely through gritted teeth, thought he wasn't sure that McGonagall caught on to his annoyance.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter. We're not finished."

Gritting his teeth, Harry walked, head down, back to the chair and waited impatiently for McGonagall to speak.

"I expected better from you." The softly spoken words set Harry on edge and his anger raised a touch higher.

Why? Why did she expect better from _him_? He was the same age as every other student in his year, so why did she expect him to be better? But Harry knew the answer to that.

He was the Saviour of the damn Wizarding World. _Everyone _expected him to be _better. _

"After everything that had happened during the War, Mr. Potter, i expected you to be a bit more mature than you are currently being. I am highly disappointed to find out otherwise, as are the other Professors."

Harry didn't show any emotion. In truth, he didn't care about disappointing anyone anymore. He used to. He used to hate to disappoint a lot of people. Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Dobby, the Weasleys...But it didn't matter now. Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus and Dobby were...no longer here. And after Fred...Well, the Weasleys had their own grief to focus on. The people he hated to disappoint were no longer around _to _disappoint, so what did it matter?

The next words McGonagall spoke were even quieter, but to Harry she might as well have shouted them. "I'm sure if Professor Dumbledore was here, he would have been highly disappointed to."

Harry's head snapped up to stare wide-eyed at McGonagall. It wasn't the fact that McGonagall had said that Dumbledore would have been disappointed, because Harry knew that if Dumbledore was here, that he would have been. But the fact that Dumbledore wasn't here...

He would have happily disappointed Dumbledore...if only because it meant that Dumbledore would have to be here to show his disappointment.

No, what stunned him the most was the fact that she had used Dumbledore against him.

Without another word, Harry stood up so fast that the chair he had been sitting on fell to the floor. He ignored it as he raced out of the office. The anger and hatred inside him was too much; too much for the 18 year old to handle. Harry started running through the halls, stopping 5 minutes later to discover he had been going in circles. He slammed himself near the closest wall and, brining his arm back, pounded his fists into the stone brick as hard as he could.

He repeated this 3 more times before he felt the bone in his knuckles crack. Not even wincing at the pain, Harry turned his back to the wall and slid down it, resting his head against the brick and his broken hand against his knee. His breathing was heavy but his eyes were dry. He had stopped wanting to cry over the War months ago. Anger was always the better option anyway.

20 minutes later, Harry found himself sitting on his bed in the Dorm-Room. His hand had swollen to the size of a balloon and was throbbing as though that balloon was continuingly bursting, but he refused to go to the Infirmary. He had spent enough time in the Infirmary in the 8 years he had been there. He wouldn't set foot in there again.

He had calmed down from his anger and now only felt exhausted. Wanting nothing more but to sleep, Harry reached down and picked up his bag. He still had a nightly ritual to do before he could rest.

Going through his bag, Harry paused, his eyebrows forming a frown before he began moving his hand around faster. His heart-rate and his breathing had both picked up as he realised that what he was looking for wasn't there.

Where the hell was his journal?

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Soooo...how was that one? C'mon people, what do ya think? xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Next chapter: Hope its enjoyable!

**SincerelyYourSecret** = Thanks for the review hun xx grateful for it x Hope u enjoy xx

**(It's not letting me write ur name hun. So sorry! Forgive me)** = Thanks hunnie, glad u enjoyed it. Hope u find this one good to lol xx

**Littleforest** = Nah, sweetie, i werent kidding lol I kinda figured that after everything Harry has been through, he's entilted to be in total dispair for awhile lol I know if i was him, i would have ended up in a mental hospital way before the end lol And about the beta reader hun...i dont really know how to go about it otherwise i would get one lol Glad you enjoyed the chapter. And, there's no need to thank me for the shout out hun. You took the time to review, so I'm happy to reply :) xx

**Guest **= Here's more hunnie! lol And I completely agree with everything you said! Thank God I'm not the only one who thinks it lol Don't get me wrong, I really like McGonagall, but come on! How on earth could she miss the signs? Even when he went to her for help, she dismissed him! And i know her roles as a teacher and deputy Headmistress is important; but being Head of House should come first! So, anyway, 100% agree lol Rant over now lol Enjoy the chapter hun xx

**PicnMixlover = **Thanks hun and thanks for taking the time to review :) Enjoy xx

**Hplover1991 = **Glad you enjoyed it hunnie. Let me know what you think of this chapter :) enjoy sweetie xx

Right, i'll let you all get to the story now lol

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By the time night fell, the Gryffindor boy's Dorm-Room looked like a bomb had hit it. By this point, Harry was ready to tear his bloody hair out. He knew he put the journal in his bag; he _knew_ it! Of course he put it in his bag; he takes that damn book everywhere with him! So why wasn't it in his damn bag!?

Harry straightened up from his bent position over his truck and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. If he were a book, were would he be? In the bloody bag where the owner HAD PUT IT!

Harry looked around at the damage before running down the stairs and into the Common-Room where Hermione and Ron were sitting near the fire.

"Hermione."

Hermione stopped her reading and looked up questioningly at Harry. "Yeah?"

Forgetting that she knew nothing about the journal, Harry rushed on. "Where did you put my book? It's not in my bag. It's always in my bag. Where did you put it?"

Hermione frowned and she and Ron shared a look, wondering if their friend had finally lost the plot. "What book, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes impatiently. He held his hands out infront of him, moving them to form the shape of a book. "It's a little black book. Leather-bound. Golden letters written on the front with my name. It's not hard to miss. It's a book! Where is it?" Harry, by this point, was starting to panic. He couldnt lose that book.

Sirius had got it for him.

"I never saw a book like that, Harry. I picked up all the books in the hall that fell from..." She didn't get a chance to finish as Harry ran at nearly full-speed out of the Common-Room, heading to the corridor where he and Malfoy had fought.

He needed that damn book.

* * *

Meanwhile, down in the Slytherin-Dorms, Draco Malfoy lounged back on his bed with his hands resting on his stomach. He stared up at the ceiling and, without his permission, his mind thought back on the times when he was little. Before Hogwarts, despite what everyone thought, his family had been happy. _He _had been happy.

Shaking his head, Draco pushed himself to sit up. He didnt want to think about those times. Desperate for some kind of distraction, Draco picked up Potter's diary that was lying on his night-stand. Twirling it around in his hands, he looked it over.

Just think; the amount of money he could get if he sold this to the _Prophet. _People would pay God knows how much to read Harry Potter's diary.

Shrugging his shoulders, he moved around to get more comfy before opening the book and beginning to read.

~. ~ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry really was a Magical place. The Castle wasn't an 'it.' She was more than just brick and stone stuck together. During the Second-War, she became everyone's 'safe-placce,' though she was my safe-place well before the Battle had kicked off. She was Magical and creative, she was safe and secure, sometimes it seemed she had a brain of her own; her own Magical-Core. She was home. ~. ~_

Draco rolled his eyes. Trust Potter to be sentimental over a bloody building. He froze for a second, before eyeing the walls in distrust. Brain of its own, huh?

Shaking his head, he went back to reading.

~. ~ _Before attending Hogwarts at age 11, I had never had a home before. I lived in a house, watching a family live their lives, that they wish didn't include me. I had wished the same on many occasions. ~. ~_

Draco raised one eyebrow. Surely Potter wasn't talking about his relatives. The same relatives that probably kissed the ground the git walked on.

_~. ~ I never knew my parents; didnt have the chance to. That chance was taken from me when they were murdered one Halloween night right infront of me. I had been a little over the age of one. I dont remember much; I was a baby, after all, but I remember some things from that night. I remember my Mother whispering to me; though I can't recall what she had said. I remember an unsettling feeling in my stomach as my Mother urgently stepped infront of my crib. I remember the sound of my Mother's screams piercing the air. ~. ~ _

Draco frowned as he looked away from the book for a second. He may not have liked the prat, but no one deserves to hear their Mother's dying screams. A shiver went down his spine as he remembered the sound of his own Mother crying about losing her husband. That was bad enough; he couldn't imagine hearing his Mother screaming like he could imagine the way Potter's Mother had probably screamed that night.

_~. ~ I remember a bright green light; so bright that it covered my entire vision; blocking everything else from view. And I remember someone laughing; cold, mocking and cruel laughter. ~. ~_

Yeah, Draco knew what that sounded like too.

_~. ~ The next thing I remember is pain; all consuming pain._

_That was my first ever memory; my Mother dying. Dying for me; dying because of me. Along the years, people had filled in the blanks of the story. Through my request, they had spilled the secrets of that night. The night I had so desperately wanted to understand during my childhood._

_The years before my birth, a War had been brought on due to Lord Voldemort, or as he liked to be called, the Dark Lord. The second greatest and most powerful Wizard. ~. ~_

Second? Who the bloody hell was the first then?

Draco scoffed; he would bet any money that Potter considered himself to be the bloody first.

_~. ~ Some people called him a crazed-lunatic, a murderer, a psychopath. Others called him great and smart and praised him to high heavens. I called him an overgrown-toddler throwing a major hissy fit because he didn't have a good life. Well, welcome to the damn club; not everyone has a good life but you don't see us trying to destroy the World. ~. ~_

Us? Potter wouldn't be part of that bloody club. Bad life? Potter? Ha!

_~. ~ The people who praised him were called Death-Eaters; Voldemort's followers. The people who fought against him; fought to protect our World and the World of the Muggles were called The Order of The Phoenix. My parents had met and fallen in-love at Hogwarts; maybe that was one of the reason's why I loved the place so much. As soon as they left at the age of 18, they and their close friends had immediately joined The Order. The First-War had been going on for years and they were desperate to help end it._

_My Father and his close friends became Aurors; protected the citizens of the Wizarding World. And they were good at their job. Too good._

_Voldemort needed them out of his way. ~. ~_

Draco jumped as someone banged on the Dorm-door.

"What?" He shouted impatiently. He was getting interested in this stupid book and he wanted to read.

"Draco, sweetie, it's me." Pansy's voice, which was muffled due to the door, rang out. "What are you doing in there?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Go away."

Without waiting for her response, Draco put a Silencing-Spell around the room and settled back to read.

_~. ~ 31st October 1981, Voldemort showed up at their house. They had gone into hiding when they heard that Voldemort was personally after them; went into hiding because my Mother was pregnant with me. I often wondered, if I hadn't come along, would my parents have stood their ground and fought against him til the very end? Would they have lived longer or shorter if they didn't have me to protect? ~ .~_

Wait...Did-did Potter blame himself for his parents deaths? Draco could just imagine what that type of guilt could do to somebody.

_~. ~ Voldemort had found their Safe-House that night and had wasted no time in barging in. I was told that my Dad had seen him first; shouted at my Mother to take me and run. Said that he would hold Voldemort off until we were safe. My Mother only had time to run into my nursery before my Father's dead body hit the floor; dying to protect me and my Mother. My Father may have been damn good at his job, but he was no match for the all powerful Dark Lord. _

_A couple of minutes later, my Mother joined my Dad. During the years, I had come to remember the words my Mother had spoken; not to me, before Voldemort strolled into my nursery; but to Voldemort himself._

_She had begged him. Begged him to spare my life and take her own instead. He decided that he wanted both. ~. ~_

Draco quickly slammed the book closed. His jaw tensed as jealousy and sympathy mixed with a hint of anger settled in. Potter's Mother had begged to Voldemort. _His _Mother had not only allowed Voldemort to play happy-bleeding-families in their home, but had offered him bleeding biscuits and tea.

He loved his Mother; God only knew, he did. And he knew that his Mother loved him back. She just sucked at showing it. She may have loved him, but she was just too scared to protect him.

Putting the book back down on his night-stand, Draco walked over to the bathroom and closed the door, intending to take a shower and relax for a bit.

* * *

Harry searched wildly in the hall-way, looking behind statues, in corners and even moved the bottom of a couple of portraits away from the wall; much to the occupants annoyance. He couldn't bloody find the thing anywhere.

Harry slid down the wall and placed his head in his hands. He wanted to scream and throw the biggest tantrum that even Dudley couldn't compare to. He wanted to cry.

He hadn't cried since the War had ended. Not a single tear. He had turned it all into anger. But now, losing the book that Sirius had gotten him; the last present that his Godfather gave him...all he wanted to do was sob his heart out. Yet, just because he wanted to, didn't mean he could.

No tears came.

* * *

Letting the water run over him, Draco's muscles relaxed and his shoulders slumped down. He had already washed himself down and done his hair; now, he was just standing under the hot spray and appreciating it. He wouldn't have been able to get a hot shower in Azkaban.

10 minutes later, Draco had gotten out, gotten dry and dressed and was back on his bed with the book in his hands. Guilt was starting to claw its way in; Should he really be reading someone elses diary? No matter whose it was?

A second later, the guilt left as Draco shrugged his shoulders and opened the book, carrying on where he left off. Damn the guilt; the book was interresting.

~. ~ _Only it hadn't worked that way. Instead, the Curse had rebounded off of me and hit Voldemort instead. He didn't die, but he did lose his power. He became nothing; not even having the power or strength that a normal Wizard would have. He disappeared and the First-War was over. After I became 11, I spent many nights wondering how the hell I had survived. Voldemort had casted the Killing-Curse on me. A Curse that had killed some of the most talented Witches and Wizards; the most skilful. They had all died instantly when that green light had hit them. So, why didn't I?_

_I wouldn't find that out until much later on._

_The only family I had left was my Mother's sister. Aunt Petunia, her husband; Uncle Vernon, and their son; Dudley. I was deemed the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Famous before I could walk. Famous for doing nothing._

_Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts; also the Leader of The Order and the 1st most greatest and powerful Wizard of all time...~. ~_

Whoa, wait. So...Potter didn't consider himself to be the first. He considered...Dumbledore?

Who the hell was this boy and why hadn't Draco ever met him?

~. ~ _...and a close companion of my parents had taken on the responsibility of protecting me. Protecting me from the Death-Eaters that weren't caught and put into prison; they had one hell of a vendetta against me for destroying their Lord. And protecting me from the rest of the Wizarding World who had nick-named me the 'Boy-Who-Lived,' who had thought I had saved them all that night and ended an on-going war._

_To protect me, he kept me hidden. Delivered me to my relative's door-step with a letter, explaing what had happened and asked them to take me in and treat me as if I was their own._

_I often used to sit there and wonder if he knew how they treated me. I had asked him many times if I could leave the Durlsey's house, but every time he had refused; telling me that I was safer there. Maybe he honstly didn't know what they did, maybe he honstly believed that I was safer in that place. Either-way, I can't ask him that question now, can I? One thing I do know about Dumbledore...He cared about me. He had proven that over and over again. And that was all I needed from him. _

_My Mother was a Witch; a very talented Witch if the stories are anything to go by. But just because my Mother was a Witch didn't mean the rest of her family was. My Mother was a Muggleborn. My Grandparents were proud of her. My Aunt Petunia was not. ~. ~_

Draco's eyes dropped down and he quickly picked up his head when it started sliding to one side. Checking the time and finding that it was getting late, he decided to continue the book tomorrow. Instead of putting it back on the night-stand, he put it in the bottom of his truck, not wanting anyone else to find it just yet.

Sliding into bed, he closed his curtains and fell asleep.

* * *

Back in his Dorm-Room, Harry ignored Ron's snores and Neville's mumbling and stared blankly up at the roof of his bed. He hadn't found his journal. He had looked everywhere, even looking in classrooms, though he knew it wouldn't have been in any of them.

Sighing loudly, Harry placed a Silencing-Spell so he wouldn't wake anyone with his nightmares before turning over to his side.

The Silencing-Spell wasn't needed as Harry got no sleep that night.

* * *

Well? Love ya's xx


	4. Chapter 4

Next chapter! Sorry you had to wait.

**hplover1999** = Thanks for the review hun xx And thanks, I was worried about their characters. I don't want to keep them excatly the way they were but close to it lol. xx

**SiriuslyRiddikulus1o1 = **Thanks for the review hunnie xx And i agree, it's about time now that Harry let go of his emotions. I kinda figured that without Voldemort to focus on, Harry wouldn't be able to stop his emotions. xx

**annajmac989 **= Thanks for reviewing hun xx Here's the next chapter, enjoy xx

**qv. reynolds **= Thank u sweetie :) Glad ur enjoying it! xx

**kOhL-eYEd ALieN = **Thanks for the review sweetie xx And ur awesome to! xx

* * *

Morning came far too slow for Harry, who had rings under his eyes. He didn't get one wink of sleep last night due to worrying about his journal. He was glad that it was Saturday. It meant that he didn't have to go crazy with his glamours because of leasons.

He laid in his bed, checked the time (9:45) and rolled onto his back. The sound of his Dorm-Mates waking up rang out in the room. He could hear Ron's loud yawn, hear someone's bed sheets rustle and could hear someone walking into the bathroom.

"You awake, Mate?" Ron asked and Harry could see his shadow through the curtain. Harry ignored him, not in the mood to talk. Not in the mood to do anything really.

He saw Ron's shadow turn sideways as Ron spoke to one of the other boys. "I don't think he's awake."

"Then wake him up." Dean's voice sounded out. "We need to get to the Great-Hall, and I don't recall seeing Harry at dinner last night, so he must be hungry by now.

Ron didn't reply, but he did open the curtain's on Harry's bed. Harry only had a second to close his eyes and pretend he was asleep. He felt Ron's hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Harry. Come on, Mate, time to get up."

Harry opened his eyes to slits, pretending he just woke up before nodding to Ron to let him know he was awake. Ron nodded back before patting his shoulder once and walking into the bathroom. Harry let out a sigh. He wasn't in the mood to go down into the Great Hall. He wasn't particulary hungry and he couldn't be bothered with the rest of the students in the school.

But Dean was right. If he didn't show up and eat at least a little, Madame Pomfry would have a field day with him. Sighing once more, he got up and padded into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready.

* * *

Draco was sitting in-between Pansy and Blaise as he slipped on his juice and chewed his toast. His friends noticed that he was more quite than usual this morning and kept giving him side glances. Draco didn't pay them any attention; his mind was focused on that stupid diary.

From what he had found out so far; Harry remembers the night his parents died, he blamed himself for their deaths, he thought highly of Dumbledore and something about his relatives. It was obvious by the way Harry wrote about them, that they didn't treat him excatly how Draco believed they did. And Draco couldn't wait to read more about it so he could understand better.

Grateful that it was Saturday, he picked up another piece of toast, downed his juice and said a quiet goodbye to his friends. As he turned to walk out the hall, he felt Pansy grab his arm.

"Where are you going, Draco? We hardly saw you last night after your fight with Potter and now you're disappearing on us again? What are you doing?"

He could see the concern in her eyes, though her face was blank. Pansy wasn't a bad friend; sure she was sometimes annoying, but aren't all friends? She did care about him, and even though it may not be in the same way, he cared about her to.

"I'm not doing nothing, Pans." He reassured. "Just got a headache, so I'm going to lie down for a bit. I'll speak to you later, again?" Squeezing her hand, he turned to walk out of the Hall only to stop again as Potter and his friends walked in.

Draco waited for his usual sneer to appear on his face but couldn't find it within him right now. Oh, he still didn't like the twit...but something was different. Draco stood there and stared as the Trio sat down at the Gryffindor table, laughing over something he didn't know about. Harry looked like a normal teenager; as if he didn't have any worries.

But if one looked close enough, and Draco did, then you could just make out a shimmer around his face; as if Harry had put a glamour up. Draco watched as Granger neatly piled toast, eggs and bacon on her plate, while Weasley grabbed everything within reach and dropped it onto his plate. Draco noticed that Harry only grabbed a piece of toast.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco shook his head before walking out the Great Hall and speed-walking back to the Dungeons. He needed to find out more; he needed to understand.

Once he was back in his room, Draco locked the door, grabbed the book out of his trunk and sat on his bed, his back resting on the headboard and continuing where he left off last night.

_~. ~ But just because my Mother was a Witch didn't mean...~. ~_

Already read that bit...Draco skimmed further down.

_~. ~ ...My Aunt Petunia was not._

_I grew up in the Muggle World; having no idea about Magic or about the World I used to be a part of; the World I was born into. ~. ~ _

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. Being the sister of a Witch, Draco assumed Potter's Aunt would have told him everything. So... Potter didn't know he was a Wizard? Didnt' know that he was the most famous kid in their World?

Wow - the things you learned in books, huh?

_~. ~ My first memory as a Muggle; with my relative's, wasn't a pleasant one. I had come to believe that I wasn't meant to have nice memories to look back on. I was 3 years old. I remember having no toys of my own to play with; I wasn't allowed toys; 'Freaks' weren't allowed them. ~. ~ _

Freaks? What the hell!?

_~. ~ I have always been called a Freak by my relative's; I can't remember a time when I wasn't a Freak to them. But at the age of 3, I just didn't understand why I was a Freak. I didn't understand why they thought I was different to them. ~. ~_

Freaks? Who the hell were these people calling Freaks?! Okay, yeah, _Potter _was a Freak, but that wasn't because he was a Wizard. Wizard's were NOT Freaks!

_~. ~ Being the age of 3, and not understanding that I shouldn't, I went over to Dudley and started playing with him and his toys. I remember jumping when Dudley started crying and screaming. Something about me breaking his toys on purpose. _

_His toy's weren't even broke._

_Next thing I remember was Uncle Vernon slapping me around the head before throwing me in my cupboard. ~. ~_

Cupboard? What bloody cupboard? What the hell was Potter talking about?

_~. ~ I remember that I had placed my ear to the door to hear that Dudley was now laughing and banging his toys on the floor. A minute later, Dudley had started crying again because he had broke his toy train in half. _

_I had rubbed the sting out of the back of my head as I sat back down on my mattress. I hated it when Uncle Vernon hit me. With the size of his hand he could hit pretty damn hard. Curling up, I had looked around my cupboard. ~. ~_

Okay, what was with this bloody cupboard? Why was Potter in one and why did he refere to it as his?

_~. ~ Not many people would believe this, but I actually liked my cupboard. It was the only thing I knew I could go to without my relatives following, as they couldn't fit through the door. That cupboard had saved me many, many times. The cupboard under the stairs was my 'safe-place' before Hogwarts. It was my little cave that noone could come into. The room that blocked out the rest of the World. It was also my bedroom. ~. ~_

Draco dropped the book in his lap in surprise.

Potter slept in a cupboard under the stairs? He stared, unblinking, at the book. A cupboard. Under the stairs. What the hell?

No, no, that wasn't how it was meant to be! Potter was meant to be spoilt. Meant to have the biggest bloody bedroom in the damn house. Meant to be showered with kisses and cuddles not slapped around the head because he wanted to play! Meant to have more toys than bloody Draco himself did.

He was meant to be bleeding pamered for crying out loud!

It took another five minutes for Draco to overcome his shock. Shaking his head slightly, he slowly picked the book back up; hestiant to carrying on reading. What else would he found out? Did Potter's friends know about this?

_~. ~ I couldn't stand my relatives and it was obvious that they hated the fact that I was breathing. I spent many moment's in my cupboard wishing for someone to take me away from them. Daydreaming about someone better coming to get me and showing me what love really was. Praying that someone someday soom would treat me the way Dudley was treated. _

_Dudley...the prince of the house. The Golden child. The one who couldn't do anything wrong; even though everything that went wrong was Dudley's fault. I hated living there. I didn't even know what really happened to my parents. I was told that they died in a car crash because they were drunk-driving. _

_For the first 10 years of my life, I had believed that my parents didn't care about me. I mean, if they did love me than why would they have taken the rist of driving drunk with me in the back-seat. I had believed that was were my scar came from. _

_You could imagine then how much of a shock I had when I found out the truth. ~. ~_

Yeah, Draco could just imagine. Once again, Draco laid the book gently down on his lap, staring open-mouthed at it. His head was swiming with this new information. Everything he had believed about Potter wasn't true. He didn't even know his own story, while every single Wizard and Witch in the Wizarding World did.

Taking a deep breath, Draco turned his head to the side to look out the window, still staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Well, this was shocking. Shocking indeed. Potter wasn't the spoilt brat he had believed.

Draco's eyes suddenly closed as he remembered all the times that he had tormented Potter about his relatives. About his parents. God, what an idiot he had been! What a nasty, sonofa-bitch he was! He shook his head at his past-idiot-self. How could he have been so insensitive?

Sure, he was pissed that Harry had refused his friendship but that didn't give him the right to bring his paretns into it!

His hand flew to his forehead as he remembered the reason why he had this diary in the first place. Potter had dropped it because they had fought. They had fought because Draco was hurt about losing his parents and so had said something about Potter's parents.

He couldn't remember what he had said, but he'd bet that Potter did.

Draco shook his head (there was nothing he could do about it just now) and went back to reading.

_~. ~ I was standing infront of the cooker a few weeks before I got my first Hogwarts letter. I had learned to cook when I was five, due to my Aunt Petunia's insistence, and had been cooking their breakfast ever since. Learning how to cook was a painful experience; many cuts and burns that noone had bothered to clean up._

_Anyway...Uncle Vernon had ordered me to collect the mail and I found a letter addressed to me. My first. It was shocking to say the least, and not just because it was addressed to me but because of the address itself. _

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupbord under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey ~. ~_

Draco frowned. If it was addressed to Under the Stairs, surely to God _someone_ knew! So why didn't they stop Potter from going back?

_~. ~ It was one of the reasons why I used to question whether or not Dumbledore was aware of my treatment. But the letter was never brought up and neither was my cupbord so I had eventually forgotten all about it. _

_Dudley...the little snitch that he was...had instantly told Uncle Vernon that I held something. The letter was taken away. I remember feeling angry. I mean, I had obviously felt anger towards my relatives before, but for some reason, this was the thing that made my anger snap. _

_I guess that it could have been because there was someone out there that knew me. I guess I kind of hoped that whoever it was had written to me to say that they were taking me away. And when Uncle Vernon took the letter, I saw it as Uncle Vernon taking my chance to leave away from me. _

_First time I had ever raised my voice to them. I had shouted that I wanted my letter back, my voice going higher then my cousins shouts of him wanting to read it. ~. ~_

Draco was seriously disliking his cousin of Potter's. Potter's cousin was acting the way that Draco had always said Potter acted. A spoilt brat!

_~. ~ My Uncle had thrown both me and my cousin out of the kitchen. Lets just say I never got my letter that day. Instead, I had gotten a vist. For the first time ever, my Uncle came to vist my cupboard. I must admit that it was a funny sight to see. My Uncle's fat head just managing to fit into the door-way. It was even funnier when he shouted at me and it became 'my Uncle's fat purple head just managing to fit in.' ~. ~_

Draco Pictured the imagne and couldn't help the small chuckle. He hoped the twit's head got stuck.

_~. ~ More surprising that the vist though was the fact that Uncle Vernon had said I would be getting a new room. Dudley had two bedrooms...~. ~_

TWO?! Bloody-hell...What was wrong with these people?

_~.~ ...One where he slept and one for his broken toys. I would be getting his second bedroom, but instead of being happy like I had thought I would be, I had wanted nothing more than to be back inside my cupbord. Back inside where it was safe and secure and where I could have read that letter. _

_I didn't sleep that night as I had kept wondering who had written, why they had written, and if they would write again. I prayed they would. _

_The next few weeks were chaos. Letters from this myserious person kept showing up and my relatives did everything in their power to keep me from reading them. I became despeate to do the opposite. This person obviously wasn't giving up, so I figured that it must be important. I learned to grow hopeful...something that had been knocked out of me at a young age...and pray that the person would just come to the house. ~. ~_

Draco frowned again, wondering why noone did go to Potter's house. They obviously knew he weren't getting the letters, so why didn't they invesigate?

_~. ~ Two days before my 11th birthday, letters flew out of the fireplace and into the living. There must have been thousands of them; laying on the floor or still floating in the air. I don't really know why, I guess it could have been because I was excited, but instead of picking one up off the floor, I jumped onto the coffee table and tried to grab one out of the air. ~. ~_

Draco rolled his eyes and chuckled before tilting his head in thought. Well, Potter is a Seeker; perhaps it was just instinct.

_~. ~ It was that day that finally drove Uncle Vernon off the edge. Telling us to pack our bags, he put us all into the car and drove off. We drove around the city for a few hours with Uncle Vernon mumbling about 'shaking them off', and Aunt Peuntia looking scared and Dudley complaining that he had missed one of his favourtie shows. _

_I had sat in the back with Dudley and that hope I had managed to once again feel, faded away. There was no way that the person was gonna find me now, not with Uncle Vernon driving around in circles. _

_We had stopped at a dirty cheap motel for the night. I had to share a room with Dudley but while he snored the night away, I stayed awake. If this person wanted to take me away than why wouldn't the Dursleys let them? They have always told me that they hated me and they've never wanted me around...so, why wouldn't they jump at the chance? ~. ~_

Because they didn't want to lose their bloody house elf. Draco scoffed in disgust. Stupid Muggles.

* * *

Harry, having seperated from his friends, was now wondering up and down different corridors, looking for his journal.

It had to be around here somewhere.

* * *

Draco crossed his ankles and wiggled around on the bed, getting more comfy and trying to stop the pins-and-needles in his left leg.

_~. ~ But, as I found out to my happiness, there was letters in the hotel office. How this person had found me again, I didn't know but I certainly wasn't gonna question it. Of course I never got those ones either. My Uncle soon had us out of there and back on the road. _

_The day before my 11th birthday, my Uncle had found a place to stay. _

_An old hut, that was standing on a crumbling rock, in the middle of the rough sea. ~. ~_

Once again...What was wrong with these people?! For heavens sake!

_~. ~ Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got the only bedroom there, while Aunt Petunia made up a bed for Dudley on the couch. If I slept in a cupboard at home, what makes you think I'd have better sleeping arrangments now? No, I had slept on the floor with a single thin blanket. ~. ~_

It's a bloody wonder Har...Whoa...dude...what the hell? _Potter! _It's a bloody wonder _Potter _didn't bloody die from the cold.

_~. ~ 12 o'clock on my 11th birthday, someone started banging on the hut-door. Of course it woke my relatives up and Uncle Vernon came running out with a shot-gun...~. ~_

Shot-gun? What the bloody hell was that?

_~. ~ The next thing I knew, the door had smashed down and a half-giant man was standing in the doorway. ~. ~_

Ah...now it made sense why Potter and the giant were friends.

* * *

Harry stopped walking and looked around. He was now standing in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, wondering if somehow someway that bloody book had ended up out here.

So far no luck.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead before walking down to the lake.

* * *

Well? Love ya's xxx


End file.
